


stop betting on my love life, tony

by neville



Series: thorbruce shorts [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bets & Wagers, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner-centric, College, Dorms, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Party, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Stressed Bruce Banner, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony Stark is not a good bro, background stucky but like very background, bruce banner falls for thor at a frat party, bruce needs to relax. cannot relax, bruce u r a fool but a good fool, don't think too hard about the plot of this ok, everybody betting on everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 18:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neville/pseuds/neville
Summary: “No, no, no,” Tony says, pouring out the last of the coffee. “What’s rude is that you’re continuing to withhold the information of whether or not you let Point Break point break you, even though we all have some of our hard-earned cash money on this.”“Tony, you haven’t hard-earned anything in your life,” Bruce says, “and if you could all please stop betting on my love life, that’d be great.”prompt #4: college au





	stop betting on my love life, tony

**Author's Note:**

> wrote most of this in a car. have read it over once. this fic isn't the friendliest to tony stark and bruce banner's stress absolutely represents The Uni Mood rn. he needs a break, and so do i
> 
> anyway, hope u guys enjoy!!

Tony’s the first person to put a bet on it, which doesn’t surprise Bruce – at all. He’s more surprised that Tony starts the bet while sober, and that Natasha gets in on it – Clint, sure, he’d bet on everything and lose every penny, but Natasha? That’s just cruel. To maintain his absolute sanity, the only person who knows who’s going to make any money off of this bet is Steve, because Bruce had told him the truth over dinner at the Waffle House one night for a lack of people to turn to. The problem with Natasha, see, is that she’ll turn around and bet on you. Steve’s not the gambling type, or the type to spill your secrets. 

“That’s – that’s  _ rude _ ,” Bruce says when Tony makes the bet twenty dollars two days later, more than a doubling of the initial five. All that happened was that Thor caught him on his walk home to the dorms, and walked him there before heading on further to his own. Thor fucking  _ lives  _ past these dorms, walks past them every day, it doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, Bruce’s skin kinda  _ crawls _ sometimes just to think that people are dramatising every one of his actions like he’s in a fucking Kirk/Spock fanfiction –

Bruce  _ loves  _ Kirk/Spock fanfiction, let it be stated for the record –

“No, no, no,” Tony says, pouring out the last of the coffee. Clint swears at him. “What’s  _ rude  _ is that you’re  _ continuing  _ to withhold the information of whether or not you let Point Break point break you, even though we all have some of our hard-earned cash money on this.”

“Tony, you haven’t hard-earned anything in your life,” Bruce says, “and if you could all  _ please  _ stop betting on my love life, that’d be great, because I have exams to pass and you following me around is putting me off.” He slams his lanyard down by his bed, keycard and all, and folds himself into his own covers. Fucking – fucking – how did this  _ happen _ ? 

He was in that frat house, at that stupid frat party that was giving him a sober man’s headache, and he made eye contact with the guy dancing like crazy to  _ This Is America _ , and the next thing he knows, they’re upstairs, and the next thing he knows, every time he sees Thor on campus they’re laughing like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and the next thing he knows, all his friends are putting  _ bets  _ on whether or not he slept with Thor, and frankly, he doesn’t think that’s any of their business. Except for Steve, who he of course told, and who squeezed Bruce on the shoulder and told him  _ hey, just do what you feel comfortable with – you and Thor can go fast, or slow, and it’s all up to you _ . 

Yeah, well, what’s not up to Bruce is everyone in his corridor fucking  _ snooping _ . But that’s what he’s got to deal with. And he could probably be less uptight and wound up, but he’s – he’s just  _ stressed _ . 

The thing is, he wants to work to his own timescale with this thing. And this whole bet –  _ thing  _ – is making it even harder, and he knows that they would stop making fun of this if he told them it was really bothering him, but at the same time he’s scared to admit it. He doesn’t want to be can’t-take-a-joke Banner. That’s just not what this is about. 

He tells Steve about the whole thing when they’re getting coffee before class; Steve’s boyfriend Bucky is the barista on the morning shift, and he always gives Bruce a discount, so Bruce has turned the occasion of therapeutic coffee session into a thing. 

“I don’t know what to say, Bruce,” Steve sighs, sipping at the foam of his latte. “There isn’t really an easy answer. But if it’s really upsetting you this much, I think you should just tell Tony. Don’t let the stress pile up.”

“Wish it was that easy,” Bruce sighs. 

“Hey. Chin up. You’ve got this.” Steve claps him on the back, and then when Bruce is on his way from the coffee shop into the science buildings, he runs into Thor. And sure, maybe it wasn’t Steve’s pep talk – in fact, it  _ probably  _ wasn’t, but Bruce likes to give it that accreditation anyway – that gave him the courage to smile up at Thor and ask “hey, do you want to – you know,  _ go out _ go out sometime?”, but Bruce is still pretty sure that Steve just  _ has that effect  _ on people’s days. He’s  _ inspiring _ . Bruce keeps telling him that he should try a career as a public speaker.  _ Ha ha _ , says Steve, every time, but Bruce is always half-serious. 

Because Thor says “of course”, and adds Bruce on Facebook, and kisses his forehead and sends him a whole host of smiley faces later when they’re planning. 

(And this, of course, is because of Bruce, but he can never give himself credit and so gives it to Steve if anyone asks.)

It’s not that he  _ actually _ wants to tell his roommates plus corridor companions that this whole amazing definitely life-changing thing has just happened, but it’s also impossible to  _ not _ tell them when he practically comes skipping back into his dorm. “Spit it out, Doc,” Clint says immediately. “What’s got you in that good mood, and can I have some?” 

“I’m going on a date with Thor, and please, Tony, if you’re going to exchange any money about this, could you kindly do it where I can’t see it?” 

Tony withdraws his hand from his pocket. “Okay, fine, but that still hasn’t answered the  _ main _ bet about whether or not you two got down and dirty at that party. Because I’m still thinking you looked a little  _ too _ happy when you got home, and you don’t do drugs.” 

“I’m not answering that. You can bet as many dollars as you like, I’m not telling you what happened at that party.” 

“I know I bet on this,” Natasha says, “but I’m kind of rooting for you to never find out now.” 

“Thank you, Nat,” Bruce says, and kind of wishes that she’d take her bet back, but she doesn’t. Bruce doesn’t complain. He could use a payout sometime, too, so he’ll excuse her slightly unsavoury ethics on this occasion. Besides, he’s still in a pretty good mood, because he’s three messages away from securing the details of his date with Thor – and, well, how could he be  _ sad _ when that’s coming up? It’s suddenly making the whole world seem just that bit brighter, even when he can barely focus on his textbook, even when he loses three hours of sleep for waiting on Thor’s next reply. 

Yeah. 

He  _ can _ do this. He can stick through. 

He doesn’t even roll his eyes when Tony mentions that there’s a frat party on that Friday, and just says over the top of his glasses that, fine, he’ll go. And he only half-freaks out when they get there and he just realises that he’s a fucking idiot and has eaten a weed brownie and  _ why would they even have normal brownies at a party? _ , because as he’s wandering through the party and not sure if he can’t feel his hands from the weed or his resulting panic, he sees Thor, and Thor is still dancing, just like the first time they had ever seen each other. Bruce wants to tell Thor that you don’t dance at frat parties, but he’s pretty sure that Thor doesn’t care, and also pretty sure that Thor has started a  _ revolution _ , because there are other people dancing around him with the same kind of lack of self-consciousness, hands in the air and hips swinging without the hang-ups of the world outside. 

And Bruce is staring, transfixed, and suddenly the idea of worrying about who’s watching slides away from him. 

When he comes back from the coffee run the next morning, still the most sober person in the room, Tony is in the middle of sorting out a pile of money and passing it around. Bruce stares at it, the coffee suddenly feeling heavier in his hands. “Did you guys have another bet while I was away?” he asks, distributing the cups between those who’ve ended up in this room. He thinks that they should probably start charging Natasha rent. Scott Lang is still out like a light, but Bruce guessed and got him a cappuccino, and leaves it near his head. Rhodey has a triple espresso, and knocks it back in the same moment it leaves Bruce’s hand. 

“No,” Tony says. “We just changed the terms of the original bet, so now it was about whether or not you two were going to fuck last night, which, uh,  _ clearly  _ happened.” 

Even Bruce knows better than to try and deny it this time. He sighs, and takes a sip of his coffee. “You know, you could be happy for me instead of betting money on my love life.”

“We  _ are _ happy for you,” Tony argues. “And betting money on your love life. They’re not mutually exclusive. I, for one, am very glad that you’re dating a jock so that every now and then I can hear about the football and pretend to be a normal man instead of talking about astrophysics.” 

“I dunno,” says Clint, surprisingly sober-looking. Bruce isn’t sure if he even gets drunk anymore; he has a temperament of  _ actual steel _ . “I think Bruce talking about science makes for a really great lullaby. And who knows, maybe some of it is sinking in? I could be becoming a genius.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Rhodey says, and hands Bruce a twenty dollar bill. “Here, man. Cash in on your own success.” 

“Thanks,” Bruce says, squeezing in on the couch next to Clint. “But you might be wrong about the normal man thing, Tony, because Thor loves ancient history just about as much as I love superpositions, so before you know it you’re just going to have two of us talking your ear off and only one talking about something you care about. It’s good for Clint, though.” 

“If I had the money, I would  _ pay _ you to talk me to sleep. I love it,” Clint says. 

“When  _ are _ you going to bring your new boyfriend over?” Natasha asks. 

“He’s not my–” 

“You’ve fucked him at least once, by my count, and that’s bring-him-over standards,” Tony objects, gesturing with his coffee. “At the very least we can all go out for, like, food together. Is anyone craving Pizza Hut? Because  _ I’m _ craving Pizza Hut. Brucie, c’mon, we gotta meet this guy, we’ve all bet – like, fifty dollars on how much he likes you.” 

“ _ Fifty _ ?” 

“Uh.” 

“Hey, if I kill Tony now, can you all say you didn’t see anything?” 

There’s a chorus of “ _ yeah _ ” and “ _ uh-huh _ ”s, and Bruce takes a long and pointed slurp of latte; but surely fucking enough, because he’s been putting up with Tony’s shit since grade school and isn’t about to stop now (he likes Tony, he really does, in between the moments of wanting to strangle him; that’s kind of how their friendship works), they go to Pizza Hut the next week with Thor. All of them, even Scott, who wasn’t  _ awake _ when the decision was made; and Steve, and by extension Bucky, and by extension Sam, who combined with Rhodey makes for such an effective Tony Stark roast unit that Bruce doesn’t even need to bother; and so he sits at the end of the table, next to Thor, who seems to be taking their general chaos in his stride, and smiles. 

“So,” Bruce says, tearing off a piece of pepperoni tear-and-share that’s been bastardised slightly by Clint, “welcome to my life.” 

“Hm,” says Thor, and laughs, warm as the sun on a hot day in June, washing away anything Bruce might remember of the shitty past few weeks. “I like it.” 


End file.
